A True Scotsman
by GoldenVine
Summary: Sherlock was never one for traditions and doesn't Molly know it.


**A/N - To the lovely Nocturnias/ Sherlolly over on tumblr. She does amazing things for the sherlolly ship, like seriously she's just fantastic, and since she is getting another year wiser I thought I would write her some fluff that hopefully she will enjoy! And to everyone else, enjoy also! (This one was really fun to write. And it's suggestive. *nudge nudge wink wink*)**

**Disclaimer - I don't own it. I know, sad right.**

Sherlock squirmed and tugged at the offending article of clothing, "Why does he want me to wear a woolen skirt?"

"It is a kilt Sherlock and it's traditional," Molly argued as she secured the last buckle and gave him a swift smack on the backside, "You look nice in it."

"It is traditional for Scots to wear to a wedding. We are not Scottish. Unless watching that ridiculous film has turned you!"

"Oh, hush you! Some of Mary's family are Scottish and John wanted to please her. That's what good husbands do" Molly chirped.

"Technically he is not her husband yet," Sherlock argued before adding, "and I married you long before they decided to tie the knot so that makes me the better husband for getting married first."

Molly looked at her husband shaking her head slightly – his petulant attitude amusing her greatly. "Sherlock you are a very good husband now come here so I can put this sporran on you."

"A what?"

"A sporran," Molly began to hook the metal chains of the furry sporran onto Sherlock's kilt buckles.

"And what am I supposed to do with this?" moaned Sherlock.

"Well, Scottish clan's men kept their money in it but I've put a little something in that you might be more interested in," Molly winked at her husband and began to walk towards the door, "And remember – play nice."

"Yes mummy," Sherlock teased, "You forgot something."

Molly looked at him quizzically and then jotted over to him and gave him a gentle peck on the lips before disappearing out of the door.

Sherlock smirked at his wife and turned to look at himself in the full length mirror on the wall. He looked ridiculous and did not care at all for his kilt. He also didn't care for the sporran that clacked ridiculously when he walked but popped it open none-the-less to see what his wife had left him. Once he produced the object from the little pouch he let out a low whistle, "Molly Holmes you are one wicked woman."

The ceremony was lovely, he would admit that. There were no doves being released or suspicious deaths to make it more interesting but he supposed it was what normal people would enjoy. He had even managed to crack a smile at John's handwritten vows (he was never good at public speaking.) Everything had went without a hitch, no thanks to his Molly who was Maid of Honour and chief time-keeper. She herself looked radiant today and he had made her fully aware of his thoughts on the silk bridesmaids dress on the way down the aisle. The blush on her face not only amusing himself but drawing some attention from the sharper guests who looked confused or perhaps bemused, he couldn't decide.

He was currently sitting at the main table with his own wife at his side and John on the other their main course having just being served.

"Haggis, really John did you have no say in this wedding?" moaned Sherlock.

"Shut up and eat it" John said forcefully already digging in.

Sherlock picked up his fork and huffed skewering a piece of haggis and staring at it in disgust. He lifted it to his mouth and chewed quickly before downing it with a gulp of wine. Molly meanwhile was gladly tucking into her meal having never tried it before.

"You do know what that's made of Molly, don't you?" asked Sherlock.

"What?" mumbled Molly around a mouthful of haggis.

"All the bits of a sheep you don't want to know about. Namely heart, liver and lungs among other bits and pieces that are left over after the main cuts are taken."

Sherlock watched with a smirk as Molly discretely spat the haggis out and claimed she'd had enough. She shot an angry look in his direction.

"Did you have to spoil the meal. I was enjoying that" she hissed.

"I thought you would want to know what you were eating. You are quite pernickety about organic food and the like" Sherlock countered with all the innocence he could muster.

"Yes, but I'm not vegetarian, am I?" Molly waited a minute on her husband to retaliate. When no snarky comment came she grinned widely – she had won the argument. "You really don't like Scottish traditions do you?"

"Not really."

"Is it because I made you watch Braveheart?"

"No. Although that has added to my loathing."

"Should have known" grumbled Molly as she moodily sipped her wine.

As the DJ announced the first dance Sherlock pulled Molly's chair out and led her to the edge of the dance floor.

"Sherlock, you are aware it isn't our first dance?" asked Molly puzzled by her husbands behavior.

"I am not stupid Molly. We have to stand here as we are required to dance after the first one or two versus. I believe it is tradition"

"Alright. Just checking."

Sherlock slipped his arm around Molly as 'Stand By Me' began to play. Sherlock groaned audibly and Molly turned to look at his screwed up face.

"What's wrong dear?"

"This song."

"What about it?"

"It's so cliché."

Molly huffed and turned back round to watch the happy couple spinning in the middle of the dance floor, "Well, I think it's romantic."

"You would," mumbled Sherlock under his breath as he led Molly to the dance floor.

As Sherlock slipped his hands around her waist a sudden thought struck Molly, "Do you remember our first dance?"

Sherlock smiled down at her, "Of course I do. Who could forget your father's attempts at keeping rhythm."

Molly giggled into Sherlock's chest, "He had had too much to drink all right."

"Your mother had to lead him around the dance floor."

"Slowly. Very slowly" she added resting her cheek on his shoulder.

"I remember something else too."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I remember how radiant you looked in your wedding dress. The soft blush of your cheeks and your eyes sparkling. You had soft pink lipstick on, your mother's diamond earrings and the little drop pendant that I gave you for your birthday. We swirled around and I held you in my arms – much like I am now – and you said that you'd never been so happy."

Molly hummed in response, "It was perfect."

"You are perfect" Sherlock said as he leaned down to kiss her forehead.

Molly smiled up at him and tilted her head, "No, _you _are perfect. I love you Mr. Holmes."

"And I love you Mrs. Holmes."

Molly giggled as Sherlock closed the distance between them and kissed her soundly on the lips.

Molly let out a soft gasp as Sherlock traced her bottom lip with his tongue and nipped it slightly asking for more.

"Not here Mr.!"

"Molly…" Sherlock murmured against her neck.

"There is a perfectly good hotel room along that corridor" she proposed.

"Are you suggesting we ditch the wedding reception and have our own party upstairs?" grinned Sherlock wolfishly already leading Molly towards the door.

"I'm suggesting we find out what that item in your sporran is for."

"Oh I'd love too but we'll have to find something else out first."

"Oh what's that?"

Sherlock all but pushed Molly into the hotel room and up against the wall.

"What's underneath my kilt…" he whispered into her ear making her shiver in a way that only his voice could.

**Review Button - Come see me on the way out? She likes reviews. She really does.**


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